Mortal Confessions
by NeverAgain1992
Summary: Set during 'Harbingers in the Fountain.' Booth is worried about being sent to hell, but not for the reason you might think... B/B


Hi,  
This is just a quick fic, set a little while after Bones is stabbed in 'Harbingers in the Fountain'. I think the characterization is a little off, but I've only been watching Bones for a few months and I've only managed to watch the last three seasons in that time. All facts in this fic are correct to my knowledge, but I will be glad to change them if they are wrong. Also, I'm not Catholic and I don't know anyone who is Catholic, so any information pertaining to Catholicism in this fanfic is either from the television or the internet and is not intended to upset anyone in any way. If I have unintentionally offended anyone, please leave me a note and I will correct anything anyone finds insulting. Any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes are my own, and although I've checked it several times with several different spellcheckers, they always seem to miss one out :)

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Mortal Confessions

It had been a long morning for the resident priest of St. Patrick's church. Father Denaby, a frail, elderly man, had spent the time cleaning the many statues that swathed the church and his creaking bones were beginning to feel the strain. St. Patrick's had been empty for most of the day (a middle aged woman had knelt and prayed for a short time around ten o'clock and some of the regular penitents had made appearances in the confession box) but as he glanced around surveying his handiwork, a young man had taken a seat in the pew and was looking up at a freshly polished Virgin Mary. Father Denaby wasn't sure what to make of the man; his expression conveyed a deep melancholy and he looked fairly harmless, yet his white shirt was soaked in blood. Nervously, Father Denaby approached, clutching his cross.

"Are you okay, son?" He asked, inspecting the young man. He looked up at the priest with mournful brown eyes, showing great sorrow through such a small look, but little remorse.

"I've sinned, Father. I mean really, really sinned." The young man answered. Denaby sat down, dislodging a badge from the man jacket, which had lain on the seat beside him. The priest had just long enough to read 'FBI' on the top of the ID before the man stowed it back in his pocket.

"Would you like to make confession?" Denaby asked him, and the young man nodded his reply. "How long has it been since your last?"

"Three months, and twelve days." The man answered quickly, folding back the stained sleeve on his shirt.

"Do you want to tell me about the blood?" Father Denaby asked. The young man nodded again and began slowly unravelling the story.

"I solve murders for a living with my partner, Bones – She's an anthropologist at the Jeffersonian Institute. Sometimes they're simple, normal murders with normal people behind them and they go to jail quietly. Sometimes they put up a fight... get really violent." The young man's jaw stiffened, "Really violent. It's amazing what people will do not to go to jail."

"Did he attack you?" Denaby enquired, urging the agent to go on with his story.

"No, not me. While I was with a suspect, Bones went to see the murder victims' doctor... to get the medical files he'd promised her. I thought he was just an innocent witness." The FBI agent described, staring at the floor, "But he wasn't; He was an accomplice. When he found out Bones was onto him, he... attacked her. He stabbed her. This is her blood." He indicated to the patches on his chest and arm. "She got stabbed because I wasn't there to protect her."

"That isn't a sin, my child. You're not at fault here-"

"I killed him, Father." The agent interrupted, "He stabbed her... tried to murder her... so I shot him to save her. And I know I should be sorry for killing him, but I'm not..."

"I think I see... You're worried that God will punish you for your impenitence and you'll be forced to spend your afterlife in the fires of hell." Denaby suggested. The young man nodded sadly.

"But not in the way you think." The agent clarified, turning to the priest, "I'm not scared of the Devil, or Demons, or eternal torment... I'm scared that if I go to hell, I'll never see Bones again..."

Tears threatening to fall, the man looked away and stared into space. Denaby remained silent for a few moments, processing the information and conjuring a reply that would put the young man's mind at ease the most.

"Do you love your partner?" Denaby began. The young man turned back to him and nodded again.

"More than anything." He replied, "I'd die for her."

Denaby smiled, "Then God won't punish you for your actions. You did what you had to in order to save the woman you love. God won't send you to hell for preventing the death of your scientist. And if your idea of heaven is to be with her forever, he'd never separate you."

The young man heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed into the pew; he glanced heavenward and murmured a quick 'Thank you', looking as if the weight of the world had just been taken off his shoulders. Father Denaby smiled, got up gingerly from the wooden seat and made his way back down the aisle to leave the young man with his thoughts.

"Father!" The young man called out, shrugging his jacket back on. The old priest turned back and nodded. "Thank you... for putting my mind at ease."

"You're welcome." Denaby smiled, and hastily added, "Just out of curiosity... what was your last confession for?"

The agent paused for a moment, and flashed Father Denaby a cheeky smile.

"Thoughts of an... impure nature..." He grinned. Father Denaby nodded – he didn't need to be told who about. Eventually, the agent rose from the pew and bounced out of the heavy double doors into the rosy afternoon light, almost jumping for joy at the prospect that he wouldn't be separated from his partner. Father Denaby, returning to polishing statues, was just glad that there was a little more love in the world than there was this morning.

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Please feel free to tell me what you think, even if it's bad. I enjoy constructive criticism. :)


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